"My hands are still shaking, which is something that doesn't usually happen when you're holding a tactical 12 gauge close to your chest. I just saw Philips get torn apart; his blood splattering the walls, his guts in a crimson pile on the floor, his brain matter scattered across the entire hallway. I didn't know what the fuck was going on, as the sit rep for this mission was as vague as they come...but I had to keep pushing on since evac was only going to be at 22 hundred, and on the other side of the compound. I ran through the hall, almost slipping on the slickness of Philip's remains and then forced the bile back down my throat. I turned the corner and I saw it...her...whatever it was, the little girl, framed in fire and screams coming from...all around her. I felt a burning sensation in my left hand so I brought it to my face and froze as I saw my glove melt away, and soon enough, my flesh. I saw the bleached white bones sticking through the gooey flesh and I then started screaming. 3 years of training and another 7 out in the field and I get wasted by a little girl. UGH, FINE!"